


Mystic Messenger Abusive Ex Headcanon!

by orphan_account



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Abuse, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Headcanon, I Blame Tumblr, Past Abuse, V (Mystic Messenger)'s Real Name, What Have I Done
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-25 22:45:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9849845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: I received a request on my Tumblr for a spin on my Abusive Father HC, so here it is! I'm much more active on Tumblr, give me a follow! :Dnezushisan.tumblr.com





	

Zen. (TW: knives, kidnapping, descriptions of violence)

“Oh, that’s a good picture, MC, post it!” Zen is clamoring over a photo you snuck while he was getting ready for rehearsal. In the picture, he’s facing the bathroom mirror, shirtless, brushing his teeth. Your face is up close in the bottom corner, sticking your tongue out. You upload it to your Instagram with the tag #boyfriend, and tag Zen in it. Instantly, his fans start commenting about how cute the two of you are, how lucky you are, and the fact that even though it’s a candid photo, Zen still looks flawless.Chuckling, you set your phone down and wrap your arms around Zen’s torso. “Don’t you need to leave for rehearsal?” Your fingers lightly trace his collarbone, making him shiver and laugh. “I can be a little late.” With that, you’re pressed against the wall, a panting mess of lips and teeth. Zen’s hands run through your hair, and a small moan escapes your mouth, only spurring him on. His lips trail down from yours, pausing briefly at your neck, before stopping to nibble on your collarbone. Sighly deeply, he pulls away, his face flushed a shade lighter than his eyes. “Or I could skip it completely…” He trails off, eyes wandering your figure. You’re suddenly hyper-aware that you’re dressed in only a white t-shirt and underwear. Blushing furiously, you laugh and point to the door. “Go. To. Rehearsal, Zen. You’ve got a big show coming up, you can’t get distracted.” You playfully smack his hand away when he reaches for your waist. Amused, he retreats with his hands raised in surrender. He finishes getting ready, and kisses you deeply before running out the door, realizing the time.  
Unlocking your phone, you see the likes and comments on your picture have tripled. Most of the comments are cute, sweet messages to you or Zen. There are some nasty comments directed towards you, but surprisingly, more often than not, Zen’s fans come to your defense. One comment stands out to you, ‘I miss you, MC.’ Shaking your head, you keep scrolling. The same username comments again, 'MC, call me, I want to see you.' Clicking on the icon next to the username, you’re taken to the profile, and you instantly recognize the face. All of the photos on his profile are old photos of the two of you, before he had started hitting you. Quickly going back to your photo, you see Zen’s fans are starting to question who the person commenting is. I need to take care of this, quickly. You scramble to block him from posting comments on your picture, but the fans have become something of a lynch mob, accusing you of cheating on Zen. You close the app, unsure of how to handle the situation. Suddenly, your phone buzzes, Zen’s winking face bright on your screen. Pressing the phone to your ear, you hear singing in the background. “Hello,” your voice betrays you, coming out as barely a whisper. “So what’s this I hear, you’re cheating on me?” the hidden laughter in his voice lets you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Letting it out with a nervous laugh, you admit, “The guy commenting is my ex. I thought I had him blocked, maybe he made a new profile, I don’t know. I would never go back to him, even if I wasn’t with you, Zen, I swear…” Zen picks up on your uneasy tone as you pause. “MC? What’s wrong? I was just joking, I know you would never cheat on me.” “It’s not that… my ex is not a good person. He was not good to me, atleast. I left for a good reason.” You feel yourself getting defensive and remind yourself it’s just Zen - you’re safe. As if he can read you through the phone, he shushes you, “Babe, hey, it’s okay. I love you. I’ll be home soon. Pay no attention to the comments, I’ll take care of it. See you soon. Muah!”  
When Zen comes home, you’re curled in a ball on the couch, only your face poking out of your blanket. Immediately, Zen notices your puffy eyes and tsks. Sinking into the couch next to you, he pulls you from the blanket bundle and into his lap. After a short silence, he finally whispers against your hair, “Talk to me, babe. Are you okay?” Sniffling, you nod and take a deep breath. “Your fans don’t like me very much right now. They’re saying you should break up with me and let the other guy have me.” Zen pulls your face closer to his, forcing you to lock eyes with him. “They have no idea what they are talking about, and besides, no way am I letting you go without a fight. That guy will have to pry you from my cold, dead hands.” Resting your forehead against his shoulder, you sigh. “He’d probably enjoy that. He’s crazy and dangerous. I told you, I left for a good reason.” Zen pauses and shrugs. “Well, you said he’s blocked now right? Then I’m not worried. If he comes near you, it’ll be his funeral. Now, what do you say we find something to eat for dinner?”  
After lots of hard work, hours of practice and long nights rehearsing, the big night is here - opening night for Zen’s new musical. Arriving early, you snap a picture with Zen before he has to disappear backstage to get ready. You’re hesitant to post the picture, but decide to do it, tagging Zen and the theater as the location. At the worst, maybe it’ll help with ticket sales. Diffusing the situation with his fans wasn’t easy, and involved lots of back and forth, answering question after question. In the end, Zen had to frankly state that he wasn’t breaking up with you, and you weren’t cheating on him. Anyone who thought that could remove themselves from his fan base. You had thought that was harsh, but Zen had said it was necessary. Comments start rolling in, wishing Zen good luck, and to break a leg. Finding a seat in the empty auditorium, you patiently wait for the ushers to start letting the audience in. Occasionally, you see Zen peak his head out from behind the red curtain to wink or blow a kiss at you. Giggling, you wait to snap a picture the next time he peeks out. You raise your phone and open the camera app. It’s still set to front facing, from your selfie with Zen earlier, and before you switch it to the regular setting, you see a figure standing behind you. Yelping, you scramble out of your seat.  
“Hello, MC.” Your ex stands before you, holding a knife and smiling. Unable to make a sound, you take steps backwards until your back hits the edge of the stage. In a flash, you spin around to climb up onto the stage, but your ex is faster. He grabs you by the back of your sweater, and your scream is cut off by your back slamming into the floor. You made enough noise, it would seem, because members of the cast have run onto the stage to see what the commotion was. Someone yells for Zen, and your ex grabs you and pulls you up by your hair. Gasping, tears streaming down the sides of your face, you swing wildly, until you feel the cool metal of his knife press against your throat, just in time for Zen to burst through the curtain. His eyes are wide and angry, as he glares at your ex. “Let her go, right now, and I won’t kill you,” his voice is absolutely hostile as he takes a tentative step closer. Your ex pushes the blade harder against your skin, causing you to cry out. “Don’t come any closer, I’ll slit her throat, I swear I will.” His shaking hands and ragged breath convince you that he’s serious. You contemplate slamming your heel into his foot, but with the blade so tight against your throat, you can’t risk it. Your only hope is that Zen can diffuse the situation, that is until your ex takes a step backwards, pulling you with him. “We’re leaving now, and if anyone follows, I’ll drive this knife into her heart.” Oh fuck no, you’re not leaving with him. You start to struggle against him, and he grips your arm hard enough to bruise. “Knock it off, MC, or I’ll go after your pretty boy next.” He drags you back another step, and Zen’s face changes from anger to panic. “Please don’t do this, she’s my world. I can lose everything in my life, except her.” Zen drops to his knees, literally begging your ex. The blade moves slightly, not quite pressing as hard into your throat, as your ex stares at Zen in disbelief before he laughs. “How fucking pathetic.” He uses the knife to point at Zen and laugh, giving you an opportunity to throw your head backwards into his nose and slam your heel down on his foot. Yelling out in pain, he releases you. His hand goes to his nose, trying to stop the flow of blood. He barely has time to prepare before your fist lands against his throat, causing him to choke violently and drop his knife. As you kick it out of his reach, you hear Zen running to your side. Unable to explain all the emotions you feel, you burst into tears, and kick your ex in the shin, dropping him to his knees. He catches your knee to his face as he collapses to the floor. By the time Zen reaches you, you’re on top of your ex, hysterically crying and repeatedly punching him. Zen wraps his arms around you, pulling you off him. “MC, MC, hey, focus. Breathe. You’re okay.” He’s kissing your forehead and cheeks and gently lifting your head to look at your neck. Sure enough, there’s a tiny scratch. Zen fumes, but for your sake, just holds you close. You’re shivering and sobbing, your hands cut up from colliding with your ex’s face, and Zen is fairly certain you’re going into some form of shock. He leaves one arm wrapped around your back, bringing his other arm under your knees, picking you up, honeymoon style. “I’ll get blood on your costume, Zen, be careful.” Zen just laughs and carries you away from your ex’s unconscious form. Someone must’ve called the police, because you hear sirens close by. Plopping into one of the seats, Zen keeps you pressed close to him, not letting you see your ex. It starts to sink in, how badly you beat him, you were hitting him after he’d begged you to stop, and even after he had lost consciousness. Shaking, you bring your hands close to look at them. Your knuckles are sliced open, from the force of your punching, and the rest of your hands are covered in a mixture of your blood and his. The room spins, and you feel like you might get sick, as you realize what you did. “Shhh, MC, breathe. Hey, look at me. No, don’t look over there, focus on me. Breathe in. Good, hold it… Now breathe out.” Zen walks you through your absolute meltdown, keeping you from going over the edge into a full blown panic attack.  
The two of you breathe together until a police officer approaches and your throat gets tight again. Before the officer says a word, you blurt out, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I was scared, he was going to kill me!” He looks confused, but nods, “I was just coming to make sure you’re alright, ma’am. We have plenty of witnesses, stating you were defending yourself from a kidnapper. We would, however, prefer if you came with us.” Zen tightens his grip on you, eyes narrowing. “Why, officer, I thought you just said she wasn’t going to be charged with anything.” The cop lets out a short laugh, and shakes his head. “I apologize, I didn’t mean to the station. We want to take you to the hospital and have you examined, make sure you’re not hurt.” Reluctantly, you agree and Zen helps you stand. You feel a soreness in your back, from being pulled off the stage. In the back of the cop car, you doze off against Zen, dreaming of red.  
When you come to, you’re laying in a hospital bed. Zen is sitting next to you, face in his hands. He hasn’t noticed you’re awake, and he’s shaking his head, muttering to himself. “…Zen…” your voice is barely above a whisper but instantly Zen is bent over, stroking any stray hairs from your face. “You’re awake. How do you feel?” You laugh and cringe at the motion. “I feel embarrassed…” Zen looks confused, but lets you continue. “I completely freaked out, I’m pretty sure I almost killed him. Your castmates probably think your girlfriend is a psycho.” You move your head, staring at the wall, avoiding Zen’s gaze, hoping he can’t see the tears threatening to fall. “MC, look at me, please. You’re not crazy. He had a knife held to your throat. A man who abused you for years was trying to kidnap you. I think your reaction was pretty rational. No one thinks you’re crazy, you were defending yourself… rather well, too, I might add.” You chuckle, smiling, despite the ache in your back. “I’ve been watching you practice fight scenes.” Zen’s smile almost breaks his face. “You’re the coolest. I just wish I could’ve protected you. They’re launching an investigation to see why security wasn’t doing their jobs. The cop said your ex is looking at atleast 15 years. Aggravated assault, intent to harm, attempt to kidnap, harassment, trespassing, it’s a pretty long list.” You nod, yawning. “Get some rest, I’m going to check in with the RFA, they’re all worried about you. We’ll go home soon.” You fall asleep to Zen stroking your hair, whispering, “I love you.” 

 

 

Jumin. (TW: stalking/obsessing, derogatory names, descriptions of violence)

Turning on the television, you see the news channels have already started running wild with Jumin’s proposal. ~~~In the middle of dinner at a five star restaurant, Jumin grabbed your hands, got down on one of his knees, and met his steel grey eyes with your hazel ones. ‘Never in my life have I loved someone as deeply as I love you, MC. You truly have opened my eyes to a world I never knew existed. Please, do me the honor of spending the rest of your life with me?’ He then presented the most elegant diamond ring you had ever seen. “Yes!” you had practically screamed. He slid the ring onto your slender finger, and caught you in his arms when you threw yourself at him, tears of joy flowing down your face. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he kissed you deeply, whispering against your lips, ‘I love you…’~~~~  
“C&R heir, Jumin Han, now engaged after he proposes to brown-haired beauty over a candlelit dinner last night.” You laugh and quote the news anchor out loud ‘brown-haired beauty’. Jumin’s arms wrapping around your waist, startling you a bit, but you smile and cover his arms with yours. His head rests against the top of yours and he chuckles, “Well, they’re not mistaken, my love” and plants a kiss above your ear. You hold him there, your back against his hard stomach, until he gets antsy - you’re making him late for work. Keeping his hands on you, he turns you to face him, taking his hands from your hips and bringing them to your cheeks, pulling you to his lips. He pulls away when you try to deepen the kiss, and you whine. Running his thumb along your jaw, he sighs, “I am the luckiest man alive.” He kisses you once more before rushing out the front door, very late for work. Yawning, you smile after your fiance and hunt down Elizabeth the Third. Once you find her, you crawl back into bed, curling up for a nap with her. You barely drift to sleep before your ringtone goes off, startling you awake and scaring Elly away. Without checking the Caller ID, you answer with a groggy, “Hello?” and are greeted with heavy breathing and a sharp bark of laughter. “You just had to rub your happiness in my face, didn’t you? I could never make you happy enough, that’s why you left! That’s why you broke my heart! WHY DON’T YOU LOVE ME?!” Your eyes wide, you’re in shock. How did he get your number?! “You know damn well the reason I left. Why are you calling me? I thought I made it very clear that you were never to contact me again.” Another humorless laugh cracks through the phone, making your flinch. “How could I stay away when you’re rubbing your new life in my face?! You’ll be sorry, MC. I’ll make you sorry you ever left me, bitch!” The line goes dead and you’re left holding your phone, trembling. Your heart is racing so fast, you wonder if this is what a heart attack feels like. You frantically send a text to Jumin, ‘Please come home. We need to tighten security. And we need to talk’. Almost immediately, Jumin’s face lights up on your phone, and before you can even say hello, he’s asking you a million questions. “It’s better if we talk when you come home, darling.” Your tongue feels too big for your mouth. You can tell he’s anxious and wants to ask more questions, but he respects you enough to wait. It’s barely 20 minutes before he bursts through the front door with a handful of security guards. You’re pacing the front hall, chewing each of your fingernails to a stub. Confirming that you’re safe, Jumin dismisses the security guards. Once the front door is closed, you step to him and bury your face in his chest. A sob escapes you, as his hands stroke your hair and rub your back. Pulling away to wipe your sweater sleeve across your eyes, you avoid Jumin’s eyes. “I got a phone call today, after you left.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see his eyebrow arch in curiosity. “…It was my ex boyfriend.” Jumin visibly freezes. “I left him a long time ago because he was abusive and psychotic. He treated me terribly, leaving bruises for everyone I knew to see. When I finally left him, he stalked me relentlessly. I had to move six times… I guess he saw the news of our engagement, I don’t know how he got my phone number, but he’s delusional, saying he’s going to make me sorry…” You trail off, giving Jumin time to process your words. You can tell he’s clenching his teeth, by the hard line of his jaw. Taking one of his hands in yours, you hold it to your chest, right above your heart. When he jerks his hand away, for a brief moment, you’re convinced that he’s angry with you, that you betrayed him. Flinching, you open your mouth to apologize, only to be crushed against Jumin’s chest. He holds you close to him, burying his face in your hair. “MC, you are precious to me. That man will never hurt you again, and if he contacts you again, it will take every single one of my guards to remove me from his throat.” Your heart swells and you let out a soft laugh. “I am the luckiest woman alive.”  
A few days pass without incident, wedding planners, caterers, and dress designers coming and going from the penthouse regularly, but it’s not enough. You’re getting stir crazy, you need to get out of the house. You beg Jumin to take the night off and spend it with you instead. “Let’s go to dinner, my love, pleaaaase? I’m going crazy in here.” You whine and pout until Jumin chuckles and agrees to skip work. “On one condition, darling. We’re taking guards with us.” Nodding eagerly, you practically yell, “DEAL!” and rush into the bedroom to get ready. Slipping on Jumin’s favorite dress - a form fitting, strapless, black dress - you apply a hint of eyeliner and lip gloss and give yourself one last look in the body length mirror. Approving, you step out of the bedroom and into the living room, where Jumin sits on the couch, fiddling with his phone. You clear your throat to get his attention and when he looks up from his phone, he groans and runs his free hand through his hair. “You’re too good to me, MC. You look ravishing.” Standing to pull you close, he raises an arm above your head, encouraging you to turn around. You spin slowly for him, feeling his eyes on every inch of your body. Suddenly he pulls you closer, trapping you with your back pressed against him. Nuzzling your ear, he whispers, “You make me want to skip our dinner reservations.” You shiver and throw your head back against him. Giggling, you tease, “You’re not getting out of taking me to dinner, mister.” He laughs and releases all of you but your hand. “Very well, Kitten, let’s go. I can wait until after dinner.”  
The entire ride to the restaurant, Jumin’s hands are all over you, teasing any bare skin he can see. His hand runs lazily over your exposed thighs, making you gasp and giggle. Slowing the car to a stop and announcing that you’ve arrived, Driver Kim clears his throat and avoids eye contact with both of you. Once you’re seated at your table, Jumin orders a red wine with a name you cannot hope to pronounce. Under the table, you rub your foot up and down his leg, and wink at him. Dinner goes well, the wine making your face flushed and your head dizzy. “Jumin Han, are you trying to get me drunk?” Your foot inches higher on his leg. Jumin just smirks into his wine glass. Behind you, there is a commotion, a hostess is yelling, “Sir, you can’t enter without a reservation! Sir!” Turning around to see what idiot is trying to get in without a reservation, you freeze, instantly sober. It’s your ex - your ex is the idiot, and he’s making a beeline for you and Jumin. Clumsily, you scramble out of your seat and move behind Jumin. “It’s him, Jumin, it’s my ex.” He is instantly on his feet, his tall frame almost completely hiding you. He snaps his fingers, signaling his guards to action. “MC, you bitch, don’t hide from me, I love you! We can make this work! I won’t hurt you again, just love me!” You remain quiet and cling to Jumin’s sleeve, biting back tears. The guards reach your ex and fight to restrain him. Once they have him retrained, Jumin wraps a long arm around your waist and starts to lead you past your ex and out the door. As you pass by them, your ex whispers, “I’ll find you, MC, and when I do, I’ll kill you. And once you’re dead, you won’t be able to reject me anymo-” He is cut off by Jumin’s fist slamming into his mouth. The guards lose grip and your ex crumbles to the ground. You have never heard Jumin yell before, but when he yanks your ex up by his collar and screams in his face for him to shut his mouth, you shudder. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, “I promise you this right now - if you do not remove yourself from MC’s life, I will end yours, happily. I would take great joy in causing you twice fold the pain you’ve caused her, but you’ve already made quite the scene. I’ll say again, stay away.” Jumin’s voice dripped with venom you didn’t know he was capable of. Shoving your ex towards the exit, he glares until your ex storms out of the restaurant. Glancing around the dining room, you see that everyone is staring, even the restaurant staff. This is not good for his public image. Softly, you take his hand, pulling gently. He allows you to lead him to the waiting car. Driver Kim shuts the car door behind you, and you stroke Jumin’s stone face. “Thank-” “I’m sorry” You and Jumin break the silence in sync, causing you to smile slightly and press a light kiss to his lips. He takes the lead and continues his apology first. “Truly, I am sorry you saw me behave like that. I was incredibly angry, and I couldn’t stand the thought of him hurting you.” You run a hand through his hair, shaking your head. “Thank you, for standing up for me. You put your public image in jeopardy to keep me safe.” Jumin looks confused, until his face goes blank and he crashes his lips against yours. As the kiss gets deeper and deeper, you physically feel the tension leave his body. He breaks away to catch his breath, panting, his eyes half lidded, he looks absolutely sinful. Smirking, you tilt your head back, your hair falling behind your head, exposing your neck. Jumin wastes no time planting sloppy kisses along your jawline, down to your collarbone. From the front of the car, you hear Driver Kim cough and clear his throat. Blushing and giggling, you try to push Jumin back to his side of the backseat. He’s smirking at you, but allows himself to be pushed away. The rest of the ride home, his hand teases your knees and thighs. “…luckiest man alive.” you hear him whisper to himself. 

 

Saeran. (TW: kidnapping, broken bones, descriptions of violence.)

‘I can’t stop thinking about your sweet thighs…’ another lewd text comes to your phone, causing you to squirm. ‘Stop texting me.’ You throw down your phone, shaking your head. Leaving your phone on the couch, you get up and head for the bathroom. You need to take a hot shower, although you’re not sure if boiling water would be enough to wash away everything that bastard did to you; your ex boyfriend. As you step into the scalding hot water, tears prick the corners of your eyes. NO, you shake your head, forcing the tears away. You promised yourself when you left him, that you’d never cry over that man again. Sure, healing from abuse is by no means a quick or easy process, but you are with Saeran now. He’s faced stronger demons than you can even imagine and he needs you to be strong. Your issues pale in comparison to his past, and for that very reason, you’ve never told him about your ex.  
The bathroom door flying open and slamming into the wall startles you from your thoughts. Peeking your head out of the shower curtain, you see Saeran standing in the doorway with hot, angry tears streaming down his cheeks. His fists are clenched, one still grasping the door handle and the other wrapped around your phone - oh no, your phone. “Who the FUCK-” Saeran starts, between clenched teeth. “No, Sae - it’s not what you think, he’s-” Your phone shattering against the tile floor shuts you up. “Get out of my fucking apartment, MC.” He slams the bathroom door shut, leaving you reeling. Slowly, you dry off and gather your clothes. Throwing your hair into a messy braid, you peek your head into the hallway. You can hear music blaring from Saeran’s room. Gingerly, you knock on his door, so lightly that you’re unsure if he heard you over the music. You raise your hand to knock again, louder, but the door clicks and the music increases in volume - he locked his door and turned up his music. ‘Okay’ , you nod as heavy, silent tears fall down your cheeks, leaving dark marks on your shirt. Grabbing your coat, you step into the cold night, hoping Saeran will step outside behind you and listen to you. Ignoring your instinct to turn around and run back inside, and force him to listen, you start your short walk home. It’s better to let Saeran get ahold of you when he’s calmed down. Trying to force him to do anything is like facing a cornered dog, he could lash out. You study your feet as you walk, kicking the occasional rock. You’re so focused on kicking rocks and fighting tears, you hardly notice when a car slows next to you, driving at the same pace you’re walking. Glancing up, you see a familiar face, smirking out of the window at you. Stopping in your tracks, you frantically pat your pockets for your phone. Fuck. That’s right, Saeran broke during his tantrum. You nervously step back as he climbs out of his car, cracking his knuckles. Your ex boyfriend stands upright, looming over you by more than a foot. He reaches a hand out to you. “If you come willingly, I won’t have to hurt you. You know how this works.” You quickly turn on your heels to run, but he’s quicker. Winding his fist into your hair at the start of your braid, he clenches, bringing tears to your eyes. Crying out, you claw at his hand and swing for his face, which is way out of your reach. Your feeble attempt at fighting him off earns you a chuckle of amusement from your ex. He releases your hair, only to shove you - hard. Your back collides with the brick building behind you, knocking the air from your lungs and leaving you gasping. He winds his hand back to slap you, but a buzzing from his shirt pocket distracts him. He places a hand against your throat, not hard enough to choke you, just enough so you can’t run. With his other hand, he pulls his phone from it’s pocket. “Hello? What do you mean, ‘who is this’, you fucking called me, man!” On the other line, you hear him - Saeran. He must’ve written down your ex’s number before smashing your phone. For a moment, you silently thank his possessive nature. Then, with all the volume you can muster, you scream, “Saeran, HELP ME!” Your ex rewards you by slamming your head against the brick wall, and punching you in the mouth, which drops you to the ground. “What? MC? Oh, haha, she’s none of your concern, dude. She’s coming with me. Fuck off.” Hanging up the phone, he reaches for you, smiling at the blood leaking from your cracked lip. You scream and throw your fists blindly, trying to buy time. It’s only early evening, surely someone has heard the commotion by now. After much struggling, he gets his arm wrapped around you, pinning your arms to your torso and your back pressed against his chest. His hand is clamped over your mouth to muffle your screaming. He lifts you, so your feet swing and kick wildly in a last ditch attempt to free yourself. “HEY!” A voice startles both of you, your ex freezing in place. A few meters away, Saeran is standing, holding some sort of electronic device. Did he track your ex’s phone? “I suggest you put my girlfriend down. Right now.” Your ex laughs and throws you down, your knees biting the concrete. You reach for Saeran, blubbering. A hint of a soft smile flashes on his face before it hardens again, looking back to your ex. “MC, come here.” Without taking his eyes off your ex, he reaches a hand out to you. You move to stand, but your ex’s shoe slams down on your calf. A sickening crunch echoes through the empty street, and a rush of pain makes you scream against the concrete curb. The edge of your vision is blurry as you try to get a grasp around the pain. This isn’t the first broken bone you’ve had, and it’s certainly not the worst thing this scumbag has ever done to you. Shuffling next to you brings your back to reality, as your ex and Saeran are beating the shit out of each other. Your ex is much larger than Saeran, but slower. Saeran ducks under a right hook from your ex, and unleashes a brutal combo. His left and right fists hit your ex’s ribs like 1, 2, and a third punch to his jaw lifts him off the ground, as he lands hard against his car and slides, crumbling on the ground. Wide eyed, you look to Saeran. He’s typing something on his phone, as he approaches you. Bringing the phone to your ear, and kissing the top of your head, he returns to taunting your ex, kicking him while he tries to pick himself off the ground. A woman’s voice on the phone startles you, making you jump and pain shoot through your leg. “What’s your emergency?” the woman repeats. Sobbing, you tell the woman everything that happened and that your leg is broken. She informs you that an ambulance was en route, and to stay on the line. In the distance, you hear both ambulance and police sirens. That, mixed with Saeran screaming at your ex, is too much and your vision spins. The concrete rushes towards you and Saeran yells your name.  
The first thing you feel is a hot, heavy throbbing down your leg, followed by a building pressure in your head. It grows and grows until you’re forced to open your eyes in an attempt to blink away the pain. You hear talking, but it sounds far away, muffled and there’s a ringing sound that’s getting louder and louder. You blink rapidly and try to shake your head. Only when a warm hand touches your cheek do your eyes focus, staring into mint green irises. The ringing fades, and you are able to take a deep breath. Saeran is looking down at you, emotions guarded as always, and behind him, two police officers are talking quietly. Noticing that you’re awake, one of the officers approaches and speaks. “How do you feel, miss?” You shrug, not trusting your voice to not crack. Saeran and the cop exchange a brief glance, and he sighs before speaking. “MC, they need to know who he is, and why he was hurting you…” Saeran trails off, his mask cracking as pain flickers in his eyes. You nod, and blink a few times, trying to fight the flow of tears that threaten to fall. You suck in a shaky breath and the tears win the battle. “He’s… my ex boyfriend. When we were together, he hurt me. Often. I finally left him, but he kept trying to reach me. I don’t know how he found me, but when I left Saeran’s apartment, he must’ve followed me.” A sob rips from Saeran’s chest, startling you and the cops. Bowing, they excuse themselves, asking you to call when you are able to talk more. Reaching for Saeran, who has his face buried in his hands, your fingers brush his arm, “Sae, please, look at me.” After a moment, he drops his hands and meets your eyes. Knowing him, and his self-deprecating ways, you harden your eyes and speak slowly, “This is not your fault. Sae, look at me. Stop, you didn’t know. Come here.” He moves slowly towards you, until you can reach up and grab the collar of his shirt. Yanking him close to you, you whisper, “I love you.” Something inside of him breaks and he burst into tears again, this time, rambling apology after apology, drowning you in his regret. “I’m so sorry, MC, I didn’t know! I shouldn’t have kicked you out of my apartment, this is all my fault. I don’t blame you if you want to leave me, I don’t deserve you anyways. If I was good enough for you, I would’ve listened to you and-” You cut him off by crushing your lips against his. “I said stop, Sae. It’s my fault, I should’ve told you about him to begin with. Stop blaming yourself, you didn’t put me in this hospital bed - you defended me against the man who did. Even after you thought I was cheating on you, you fought for me. That’s amazing.” You smile through your tears, pressing a lighter kiss to Saeran’s lips. He deepens the kiss, pulling you close. When he pulls away to breathe, he laughs lightly. “I guess I owe you a new phone, huh?” You laugh with him, before pulling him back into the kiss, going deeper and deeper until you have him groaning and he’s putty in your hands. Then, softly, you smirk and push him away. Whining, he looks at you almost pitifully. “You get the rest of that when I have a working phone.” His face drops, then he returns the smirk. “Whatever you desire.”

 

Seven. (TW: Emotional abuse, attempted non/con, graphic description of past abuse.)

~~~He had been very drunk, and dragged you along to hang out with some of his questionable friends. At some point during the night, unknown to you, he had decided to share you with his friends. When they started grabbing at your chest, ass, and thighs, you shrieked and smacked their hands away, shoving a few who were standing too close. Your actions had awarded you a sharp backhand across your face from your boyfriend, hard enough to make you stagger to the side. His friends howled with laughter, creeping close again. Shoving them all away, you had made a beeline for the front door, heavy sobs bursting from your chest. Sprinting into the deserted street, you dialed the first number that came to mind. “Hello, babe. My sweetie… I sounded like Zen, didn’t I? What’s up-” Hearing you sniffle, Seven stopped. “MC? Are you okay?” You barely managed to whisper, “No” before you heard him rustling around on the other line. “I’m coming to get you, stay where you are.” You sat under a street light and waited for Seven to find you, pulling your legs close to your chest. You tried to calm your breathing, you didn’t want Seven to worry too much.  
“MC!” A sharp bark snapped you out of your daze, your boyfriend stumbled down the street toward you. “GO AWAY!” you yelled, scrambling to your feet. Suddenly, a silver car screeched to a halt beside you. Rolling down the window, Seven winked and said, “Hop in, babe.” Your boyfriend broke into a run, trying to catch you before you climbed into the car. “Go, Seven, go! Fuck!” you exclaimed as your boyfriend’s fist slammed against the window. Laughing, Seven shifted the car into drive and sped off. His laughter was infectious, and you couldn’t help but laugh along… until you started crying. Silent sobs escaped you, and Seven just reached over to squeeze your hand. The rest of the drive had been silent, giving you time to process everything that had happened. When he pulled into his massive garage, the fluorescent lights burned your eyes a bit, making you squint. As you got out of Seven’s car, your hand brushed your cheek, wondering if your boyfriend had left a mark. Seven’s sudden look of concern - with a flash of anger - confirmed that, yes, he’d left a red handprint across your cheek. Seven had grabbed your chin softly, his thumb resting just below your lip and gently turned your head to get a better look. You screwed your eyes shut, trying to hide your shame, until his lips brushed against the flushed skin. Your eyes snapped open, almost as wide as your mouth, but Seven had already turned away, rambling about finding you something to eat. You had smiled despite yourself.  
The first couple of weeks had been rough, your now ex boyfriend had blown up your phone, demanding to know where you were. After you had told him that you were leaving him, he lost his shit, and threatened to find and kill you. That’s when Seven intervened by taking your phone and politely told your ex where he could shove his threats. He had then hung up the phone and turned it off completely. Before he could say anything, you had thrown your arms around his middle and cried into his shirt. He just held you and told you to ‘let it all out’. When you were out of tears, he had smiled down at you, his honey eyes soft and filled with an emotion you couldn’t then place.~~~  
Today, you wake up to a soft knocking. Seven pokes his head inside his room, “I’m running to the grocery store, do you want anything?” Shaking your head, you yank the blankets up and over your head. You hear him chuckle before he shuts the door. When Seven comes home from the store, he finds you crouched between the couch and the coffee table, sobbing into your lap. Dropping the bags, he rushes to kneel next to you. “Are you hurt? What is it, MC?” He spots your phone next to you, LED light on the front blinking rapidly. You must’ve turned it on while he was gone. Picking it up, he sees over 30 texts from your ex, several of them pictures of your clothes and belongings on fire or in the trash. The most recent text says it was sent five minutes ago. ‘I know where you are now, bitch. You’re going to be sorry.’ Turning your phone back off, he tosses it onto the couch, out of your reach. Pulling you close to his chest, he wraps one arm around your shoulder, the other stroking your hair. “I won’t let anything happen to you, MC. You’ve become too important to me. I’d never forgive myself or that guy if you got hurt.” He says it so quietly, you’re unsure if he actually said it, or if you’ve finally lost your marbles. When you finally lift your head and meet his gaze, you feel your heart skip a beat, then take off on a high speed chase. The way Seven is looking at you… no one has ever looked at you like this. His cheeks flush, and he looks away, embarrassed. Before you can stop yourself, you’re planting a feather light kiss against his jaw. He freezes, his hand in your hair halting its caress. “MC…” He looks down at you, concern dancing in his honey irises. Before he can say anything else, you push your lips against his. After the initial shock, he lightly kisses you back for a moment before lightly pushing you away. “This isn’t right, MC. You’re hurting.” Burying your face in his neck, you take a deep breath to calm yourself. As you exhale, your breath rushes against the skin of his throat and he shudders. In an instant, he’s standing, leaving you on the floor. “Seven?” His arms are crossed over his chest and his face is redder than his hair. “I’m sorry, MC. I just… you make me feel… I’m sorry.” With that, he’s collected the groceries and retreats to the kitchen to put them away.  
Unsure how to feel, you lift yourself onto the couch and wrap a blanket around yourself. ‘Make him feel what? I need to know.’ Determined, you stomp into the kitchen to find Seven bent over the counter, supporting himself on his elbows, hands clenched in his hair. ‘Is he crying?’ “Seven…?” you barely whisper and he jerks upright, hiding his face with his hair. “I’m fine, MC. What’s up? Want me to make you some food? I’m not much of a cook, but I’m sure I can fix something up. I can heat up some Honey Buddah Chips for you, although I’m sure you want real food. Don’t be like me and eat junk food all the time, it’s not good for-” “Seven. Shut up.” Taken aback, he glances at you. You’re standing, blocking the doorway, glaring at him. “You’re hiding something. You don’t have to hide from me…” He laughs, and shakes his head. “Really, MC, I’m fine. I promise-” “Liar.” His face drops a bit, revealing a flash of panic, and something more. “You’re being silly, let’s watch a movie or somethi-” “No. We’re going to talk.” He turns away from you, hands gripping the edge of the counter. You can’t see his face, but his knuckles turning white tells you that you’re right, he’s hiding something. You step away from the door, reaching for him. “Seven, please, talk to me. You said I make you feel something. What is it? I need to know.” Inching closer to him, you feel tears pricking your eyes. ‘Why am I crying?’ “I can’t. MC. Please, don’t come any closer. I’ll only hurt you.” Shaking your head, you let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t believe you. No, I can’t believe you, Seven. The way you kissed me earlier, I don’t think you’re capable of hurting me.” It’s Seven’s turn to laugh. “Technically, you kissed me, MC.” You glare at him, making him laugh again. “Sorry, sorry. I would never physically hurt you, that’s true. But… who I am, what I do… you’d be considered a liability. Anyone who wanted to hurt me, could come after you. One puny ex boyfriend? No problem. An entire agency of secret agents? I might have some trouble protecting you.” You begin to inch closer to him while he rambles, ending inches from his face by the time he stops. Breathlessly you whisper as you lean closer to his face. “I’m not scared, Seven. I like you.” His already flushed face burns brighter as he avoids eye contact with you. “Seven! Look at me, dammit!” He gives a short shake of his head. “If I look at you right now, MC, I will kiss you again, and this time I won’t stop. If I look at you, I’ll tell you that I’m in love with you and that I want to make you the happiest woman on Earth. But I can’t. I can’t have you.” He’s clenching his teeth, biting back sobs. You place a hand on either side of his face, his cheeks now streaked with tears that betrayed him and fell despite his best efforts. Forcing his face forward, his eyes finally meet yours, and you smile softly at him. “Have me, Seven. I’m yours.” With that, you’re lifted onto the counter, your back pressed against the cupboards and Seven’s hands are on either side of your waist. His head rests against your chest and his breathing is staggered. “I’m serious, MC…I can’t… You’re killing me right now.” Burying both hands in his messy red hair, you softly yank, once again forcing him to look you in the eyes. “What are you so scared of, Seven? I already told you, I’m not afraid… For the first time in years, I’m not afraid.” Seven’s eyes grow wide, a new light shining in them. “In that case, then…” He trails off, as he pulls you closer, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss is soft at first, gentle, like Seven is afraid to hurt you. Your hands are still in his hair, and you give an encouraging tug on the locks near his neck. He pulls away to let out a small groan, the most delicious sound you’ve ever heard. This time when his lips crash against yours, there’s nothing gentle about it. You’re panting into each others mouths, hands wandering and exploring each other. You break away from the kiss to trail a line of sloppy kisses down his jaw, stopping to lightly sink your teeth into his neck. This earns your another low groan from Seven, as he buries his hands in your hair. “MC,” he pants, “are… are you sure?” You answer by slipping your hands beneath his shirt and softly digging your nails into his back, slowly dragging them down. He gasps and coughs, his face flushed. “Very well,” he practically mumbles, as he wraps his arms around your back, lifting you off the counter. Your legs wrap around his waist, as he carries you towards the bedroom.  
Kissing up and down your neck while he walks, you giggle and gasp, your hands buried deep in his messy hair. A shrill beeping from Seven’s computer startles both of you. He practically whines, before lowering you onto your feet, rushing to check the beeping. He moves his mouse to wake up the screen, and video feed from his security camera appears on the screen. Your ex boyfriend is standing outside the gate. The audio is turned off, but he’s screaming something directly into the camera. Sighing, Seven turns on the mic and asks, “Can I help you with something?” The return audio is a slurring of curse words and burps. ‘Great. He’s drunk.’ Seven turns to you, the flushed arousal of his face turning to a flush of anger. “What do you want me to say to him? You’re shaking, MC. Do you want me to call the police to get him?” You shake your head, reaching your hands out for him. He stands and walks into your embrace. Biting back tears, you whisper against Seven’s shirt, “Let’s just ignore him. Maybe he’ll tired himself out and give up…” You feel him sigh, “I don’t think we should run away, but whatever you wish.” Walking back to the computer, he reaches to shut it off and stops. “What is he holding, MC?” Approaching the computer, your stomach drops. “Turn the audio on, Seven, what is he saying?!” Seven hits the button that unmutes the sound from outside. “…and I’ll kill every last one of them. You had your chance to come out and be an adult, but I guess you’d rather be a fucking child. Just know you could’ve saved them.” Your vision spins and you have to grab Seven’s shoulder to stable yourself. “Seven, we have to go out there. That’s my address book. My whole family, all of my friends, they’re all in there, Seven, he’s going to hurt them because of me!” You’re shrieking, breaths coming in sharp gasps. “MC, breathe, hey. Take my phone, call the police. I’m going to go get that notebook.” Seven stands, grabbing his sweatshirt and cracking his knuckles. Wide eyed, you grab his sleeve. “No… you can’t. He can’t hurt you too. You call the cops, I’ll go talk to him.” Seven laughs, humorlessly. “If you honestly think I’m letting him even look at you after the pain he’s caused you, you’re wrong, MC.” Planting a kiss to your forehead, he walks out the front door.  
Quickly dialing the number for the police, you plop down in Seven’s computer chair. Watching the screen, unblinking, you flinch when you see Seven approach the gate, catching your ex’s attention. Seeing their mouths moving, you realize the audio must be muted. ‘Fuck, what button was for audio again?’ On the phone, the police station finally picks up, and you fill them in as quickly as you can while you look for the audio button. The man on the phone confirms that an officer is on their way, and you hang up. Finally spotting the audio button, you smash it in time to hear your ex threaten to kill Seven. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you better send MC out right now. She has a lot to answer for. Did she send you out like a little errand boy? How about it, MC, should I kill your messenger boy?” You swear you can hear Seven chuckling, and by your ex’s expression, you know he is. “I know you didn’t really ask for my opinion, but since you’re at my house, I’ll give it anyway. I think you’re a low life, piece of shit. I think someone like you doesn’t deserve someone like MC. I also think you’re going to give me that notebook and get the fuck out of here before the cops show up.” You feel yourself shiver. Seven could be intimidating, damn. “I’ll give you the notebook if MC comes out and talks to me.” Instinctively, you stand up to go outside, and as if he can sense what you’re doing, Seven looks at the security camera. “Don’t even think about it, MC. Stay inside, where you’re safe.” Your ex tries to reach Seven through the gate, his arm not quite long enough. When that doesn’t work, he starts trying to climb the gate. “Are you serious, dude? Just stop, you’re embarrassing yourself.” You wonder why Seven isn’t doing anything, then it dawns on you. He’s keeping your ex distracted, so the police have time to arrive before he takes off. Clever. Despite Seven’s taunts, and the height of the gate, your ex is making progress climbing. Just when you think he might make it over, two cop cars pull up, blocking your ex’s car in. You turn away from the computer and rush out the front door, figuring the cops will want to talk to you. Shutting the front door, your face drops. In the time it took you to run out the front door, your ex made it over the gate. He’s taking wild swings at Seven, who is easily dodging the drunk’s clumsy attacks. Seven spots you outside, but keeps his mouth shut, as your ex hasn’t noticed yet. “Open the gate, stop where you are, sir!” the cops yell until they spot you too. “Miss, let us in so we can help!” Your eyes flash to your ex and Seven, who are still dancing in circles and to the control panel with the button for the gate. Leaping off the front steps, you make a mad dash for the control panel. Your ex notices immediately, taking his attention off of Seven and chasing after you. Even drunk, he’s much faster than you, and just before he reaches you, Seven twists his arm painfully behind his back, dropping him to his knees. You slam your hand on the button for the gate, and sink to the ground, shaking. The cops pin your ex to the ground, handcuffing him. Seven walks towards you, holding your address book, a soft smile dusting his face. “It’s over, MC. He’s going to jail. You’re safe.”  
After talking to the police, and giving them copies of the footage from his security camera, Seven closes the door behind them and sighs. You’re curled on the couch, with a blanket wrapped around you, picking at a few frayed threads. “MC… to quote a very wise person, we need to talk about it.” You wince and look up at Seven, who is standing in front of the couch, slightly leaning down towards you. “Do we have to? I don’t really think there’s anything to say…” Seven plops on the couch next to you, taking one of your hands in his. “MC, I don’t want to hide anymore… I love you. I’ve loved you for years. Since before I first saw you for the first time at the RFA party. It killed me when I found out that he was hurting you, and it killed me even more that you were too… frightened, I suppose, to leave him. I’m happy, MC. I’m so happy that you’re here. It’s selfish to want you to stay here with me forever, knowing I could be putting you in danger at any time, but I want it regardless.” His face is flushed red, but he doesn’t avoid your eyes as you turn your head to look at him. “Be selfish, Seven… I want the same thing.” Seven breaks out in the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, and it’s beautiful. “Saeyoung.” Breaking out of the trance his smile tossed you into, you shake your head. “…What?” “Saeyoung. My real name is Saeyoung.” It’s your turn to smile, as you purr, “Saeyoung”. His jaw practically unhinges and he closes the distance between the two of you, effectively pinning you flat against the couch. “God, I could get used to that.” He sighs happily before pressing his lips against yours. Your hands explore his back, up to his hair, where you weave your fingers in, pulling softly. He lightly moans into your mouth, heat rushing through you. “Saeyoung?” His ‘hmm’ is barely audible as his tongue and teeth explore every crevice of your neck. “I didn’t.. say it before but… I feel the same.” His teeth lightly nibbling on your earlobe has you speaking in gasps. He stops briefly to meet your eyes, questioning. “I love you too, Saeyoung.”

 

Jaehee. (TW: Descriptions of emotional/physical abuse.)

“No, Mr. Han has a mile long to do list for me, I don’t think I can get away for lunch anytime soon. I’m so sorry, MC.” Jaehee sighs into the phone, sounding exhausted. “It’s okay, babe, just take it easy. Drink lots of water and don’t push yourself too hard. Will you be home for dinner?” You try your hardest to sound cheerful, so Jaehee can’t read the disappointment in your voice. The two of you were supposed to meet for lunch, since you’d barely seen each other this week; Jumin’s company has been taking on almost double the usual work, and a lot of the responsibility falls on Jaehee’s shoulders. Not that she can’t handle it, but she still needs a social life. You hold back the exasperated sigh building in your throat. Jaehee doesn’t need a guilt trip, you remind yourself silently. “I wouldn’t miss dinner with you for the world.” Jaehee’s response makes you giggle despite yourself before you hang up, letting her get back to work.  
Hanging up the phone, Jaehee smiles to herself. You’re always so understanding and supportive - and you are hers. A sharp knock on her office door startles her, and she stutters, “C-come in,” One of Jumin’s security guards enters, followed by a timid looking woman. “Pardon me, Assistant Kang, but this woman said she needed to see you. She asked for you by name.” Jaehee nods, dismissing the guard. As he shuts the door on his way out, the woman becomes a completely different person - her timid stance becomes confident, in an off putting sort of way. Her head snaps up from its downcast position, so she is looking down the slope of her nose at Jaehee. Her hands had been clasped in front of her, now rested on each hip, and she narrows her eyes at Jaehee. At her sudden change, Jaehee shrinks back a bit and clears her throat, asking, “Is there something I can help you with, ma’am?” After a short pause, the woman laughs loudly, making Jaehee flinch. “You’re Jahee Kang? You have got to be fucking kidding me. You’re probably the ugliest woman I’ve ever seen. You look so homely, almost like a boy. You must be incredibly dull to be around. God, even your outfit lacks an ounce of appeal.” Each venom charged word the woman spits nails Jaehee in the throat, but she steels herself, refusing to allow this strange, rude woman to make her cry. Opening her mouth to dismiss the obnoxious woman, she is cut off by the woman slamming her hands down on Jaehee’s desk and leaning in close. Her eyes like daggers, she stares Jaehee down, starting at her hair and down to her standard button up, blue collared shirt, and sneers. “What MC sees in you, I don’t understand. How is she, by the way? Did she ever end up losing that baby fat? She was so chunky when we were together. Ugh. Disgusting.” Jaehee’s eyes grow wide as she realizes who the woman standing in her office is. Standing and walking to open her office door, Jaehee makes her voice as pointed as she can, “I suggest you leave, immediately. Neither MC nor I have anything to say to you.” Smirking, the woman approaches the threshold of the door. Before she passes through the doorway, she swings around, her open hand catching Jaehee across her face, making her cry out and stumble to the floor. Security comes running, calling for Mr. Han, but the woman is already making a beeline for the elevator. When Jumin arrives at her office, with a few security guards in tow, Jaehee is already seated at her desk, filling out paperwork. Immediately, Jumin notices the bright red, stinging hand print reaching from Jaehee’s ear to the corner of her mouth. Sending the guards away and shutting her office door, he asks her to explain to him what happened. After hearing what she has to say, he nods. “Go home, Assistant Kang.” “Mr. Han?” “You’ve had a long day, go home and have dinner with MC. Give her my regards.” With that, he rises and swiftly leaves her office. Jaehee slowly gathers her things and leaves the C&R building. God, what a weird day.  
When you hear the front door open, you’re a bit startled and glance at the kitchen wall clock. Too early for Jaehee, maybe it’s one of the boys? You’re about to call out, ‘Hello?’ when you hear Jaehee’s soft voice calling your name. Ecstatic, you throw down your dishrag and rush into the living room, stopping short at the sight of Jaehee. She’s standing in the doorway with a bright red handprint across her cheek and tears dancing in her eyes. Before she can set her coat or purse down, you have your arms around her. “What happened, Jaehee? Who hit you, I’ll kill them! Are you okay?” Jaehee just shakes her head, a few tears breaking free and rolling down her cheeks. Lightly brushing them away, you plead with her to tell you. “Someone from the past, she’s not important, MC. I’m just being silly.” You’re taken aback, hands frozen on Jaehee’s sides. “If she thinks she can hurt you and get away with it, she’s dead wrong. Who was she?” Jaehee sighs, realizing you’re not going to drop it. Lowering her eyes to avoid yours, she mumbles, “I think she was your ex girlfriend… the one you warned me about…” Your hand drops from Jaehee’s side to fish your phone out of your back pocket. “What are you-” Your hand returning to stroke her unbruised cheek silences her as you hold the phone to your ear. After a few rings, someone on the other line picks up, but remains quiet. Sucking in a deep breath, you make your voice as intimidating as you can manage, staring at Jaehee’s swollen cheek to fuel your anger. The body on the other line is laughing quietly. “Who the fuck do you think you are, putting your dirty hands on Jaehee like that? You’re a real fucking piece of work. She did nothing to you, so don’t take your mistakes out on her. Stay away from her, and from me.” Your ex just laughs louder. “This is adorable. Did she run home and tattle on me? Poor little baby Jaehee got her feelings hurt? HA! I’ll do much, much worse to her tomorrow. Unless, of course, you meet me tonight. Alone.” You pause, meeting eyes with Jaehee. “Where?” Jaehee shakes her head frantically and mouths ‘NO’ to you, but you turn your head away. “Just leave your apartment around 10pm. I’ll find you.” A click tells you that she’s hung up the phone.  
“You aren’t actually going to meet with her, are you?” You sigh, pulling her into a crushing hug. “Jaehee, I don’t have a choice. You heard her, she threatened to hurt you, and I can’t have that. This is my skeleton, from my closet and I’m sorry you got dragged into it. I’ll fix this, I promise you.” Pushing out of your arms, she shakes her head. “C&R is surrounded by security guards, not to mention all the guards stationed on every floor. She can’t touch me.” You can’t help but roll your eyes. “So you’re just always going to have a security guard with you? That doesn’t make any sense. I’ll find out what she wants, and you’ll be safe.” Suddenly, Jaehee’s face lights up. “I have an idea. Call Seven, tell him we are coming over and that we need a favor.”  
Arriving at work the next morning, Jaehee instructs the guards to allow your ex to enter, but to stay close in case the plan goes south. Adjusting her collar, she makes sure Seven’s gadget has a clear view, but remains hidden. She is flipping through a proposal for a project when your ex stalks into her office, letting herself in without knocking. A rude woman indeed. “Before you do anything, permit me to ask a few questions?” Your ex huffs at Jaehee’s question but crosses her arms and nods. Jaehee stands and moves around to the front of her desk, leaning against it. “Why? Why did you abuse MC like that when you were with her? Why did you hit her and demand she lose weight?” Your ex huffs again, and for a moment, Jaehee is worried that she’s not going to play along, until she laughs. “MC is a weak person, and weak people disgust me. I always had to remind her to make herself look presentable so she wouldn’t embarrass me. And hitting her? Well, I couldn’t just let her get away with being weak and pitiful. She had to be punished.” Jaehee sees red, but reigns in her anger, “Allow me one more question? Why are you coming after us now? We’ve been together for almost 2 years. Why right now?” Your ex takes a step closer to Jaehee, “Because I can’t stand seeing her pretend to be happy, being weak. Break up with her, Assistant Kang. Dump her and disappear, or I will kill you. Look in my eyes and see I’m not joking. She belongs with me, someone who can fix her, make her into a proper person, not someone pathetic like you. And mark my words, if I can’t have her, I’ll simply just kill the both of you. So what do you say?” Jaehee quickly spins around, smashing the button on her desk phone to summon the guards. Turning back to your ex, she smirks. “I say you’re an idiot for thinking MC is less than perfect. I also say that I’ve recorded this entire conversation. My guards will be here any second and you are trapped.” As if on cue, five security guards burst into her office, surrounding your ex. Screaming in frustration, she launches herself at Jaehee - only to be easily restrained by the guards. Jaehee unpins the tiny camera from the collar of her shirt. “Do you like it? My friend designed it to help me stop you. The footage is now safely stored in his computer, and it will remain there… if you do as I say.” Your ex narrows her eyes, glaring at Jaehee. “Here’s my proposition: You, disappear. Forever. We never hear from you again, and the police will never see that video evidence of you admitting to abusing MC and threatening our lives. Or, if you’d rather, I can have my friend forward that little clip to his friend in the police force. He would have officers here to arrest you within minutes. I promise you, the charges would stick. You see, it pays to have friends. Do you know how you make friends? By not being a rude, selfish person. I can tell you’re not capable of that, but it’s some food for thought, no? So, you decide.” Shoving the security guards off, your ex barks “FINE” before storming out of the building. Jaehee sucks in a deep breath, and thanks the guards, dismissing them. Taking a few more deep breaths in a feeble attempt to make her hands stop shaking, she dials your phone number.  
Pacing the living room, you wait for the call from Jaehee. The camera Seven designed for you last night was set to download directly to his computer, so anything your ex said or did would be caught on camera. You hadn’t liked the idea from the beginning, since it meant Jaehee would face your ex alone, but she’d insisted. Your phone rings, scaring the crap out of you. You answer before the third ring, not even bothering to say hello. “Jaehee, are you okay?!” There’s a short pause, then Jaehee’s warm voice flows through the phone. “I don’t think we need to worry about her anymore. She confessed to everything, and even threatened to kill me. That video evidence we caught is too much for her to risk. We’re safe. I love you.” You hum happily, telling Jaehee you love her too. “I’m leaving the office right now, MC. How about that lunch date?”

 

Yoosung. (TW: Graphic description of violence, mention of past rape/non-con, attempted rape.)

“Yoosung~!” You sing your boyfriend’s name, summoning him from the bedroom. Pouting, he appears, wearing a fresh sweater and ironed slacks. “Ohhh, you look so cute, Yoosung!” His face flushes red, as he tries to hide behind his book bag. “MC, you’re acting like my mother, why do I have to dress up like it’s the first day of school?” He whines, pulling at the neck of his sweater. “Stop it, you’ll stretch it out. I think you look handsome. Don’t you want to look nice for your first day back?” You fake pout, knowing he’ll give into you. He can never deny you anything, especially when you beg. “It’s only been a couple weeks, MC, just winter break… Oh God, don’t pout. Noooo, stopppp. Fiiiiine, I’ll wear it.” He huffs and pretends not to blush when you press a quick kiss on his cheek. “Let’s take a picture, since you look so cute!” Posing next to you, he wraps an arm around your waist and you press your lips to his cheek again. Snapping the picture, you pull away and look to make sure he smiled. He did - and also winked. Blushing and grinning widely, you post it to your Facebook profile, making it your profile picture. “You better get going to school, Yoosung! I’ll miss you.” Pulling you back to him, he peppers kisses across your forehead, trailing down to your nose and cheeks, finally planting his lips against yours. “I love you, MC.” With that, he’s running out the door to catch the train.  
A few hours later, you’re tidying up Yoosung’s apartment, thinking about what to cook for dinner, when your cell phone starts ringing. You don’t recognize the ringtone, meaning it’s an unknown number. You let it go to voicemail - if it’s important, they’ll leave a message… Or call again? Your phone rings again and again, taunting you. Against your better judgement, you finally answer. “…Hello?” “MC! You fucking slut, where are you? We haven’t even been broken up for a year and you’re already throwing yourself at other men. You always were so classy. Even though you’re a dirty whore, I miss you. You know I can fuck you better than he can, right? Just tell me where you are, I’ll show you.” Disgusted, you hang up the phone and shake as you choke back sobs. You hear Yoosung’s keys in the door a second too late, and he sees you curled in a ball against the side of the couch, silently sobbing into your hands. Dropping onto his knees in front of you, his hands are all over you. “MC!!! What is it, are you okay? What’s wrong, did something happen?!” You shake your head frantically, trying to shake your tears away. He puts both hands on your head, stopping your violent thrashing. “MC. I’m serious, talk to me.” Finally meeting his eyes, you cry out, throwing your arms around his neck. He is taken aback, but he seems to understand that you can’t talk right now. Securing your arms around his neck and slipping an arm under your knees and behind your back, he easily lifts you from your spot beside the couch and carries you to your bedroom. Gently setting you on the bed, he wraps a light blanket around you, stopping briefly to rustle your hair before leaving the room.  
Just when you get anxious enough to get up and see where he went, Yoosung reappears with a glass of water and a wet towel. Smiling softly at you, he motions for you to lay down. You’re surprised he’s so calm but you obey, resting your head on the pillow. Your breathing is still shallow, but steady enough for you to try to talk. He deserves to know. “Yoosung… I owe you an explanation.” He sits on the bed next to you, laying the warm towel across your forehead, his fingers lightly dancing down your cheek. Fresh tears burn in your eyes, but you force them back. Swallowing hard, you sit up enough to meet his eyes. “I got a phone call today… from an ex boyfriend.” Yoosung’s eyes flash and his hand, which was caressing the exposed skin of your wrist, freezes. Before he can say anything, you quickly continue. “When we were together… he was not a good person. He wasn’t good to me. He would do things to me… “ You pause to take a breath, and feel Yoosung shaking. Avoiding his eyes, you begin again. “He did things… if I didn’t do what he wanted, he’d hit me.” Yoosung flinches, as if he’d been struck himself. His eyes are brimming with tears, but he nods, encouraging you to go on. “Um, if I didn’t… satisfy him… he’d take what he wanted.” Both you and Yoosung are openly sobbing now. He yanks you from your resting position on the bed, clutching you close to his chest and crying into your hair. “He called me today… and threatened me. I think he saw the picture I made you take with me.” Stroking your hair, Yoosung sniffles and tries to reign in his tears. You try to help by wiping some from his cheeks, which only brings fresh tears pouring down. You settle for peppering kisses along his cheek and jaw. After a long while, you’ve both calmed down, and you lay down next to each other, only your hands touching. “How did you do it, MC?” Confused, you turn your head to look at your boyfriend. “Do what?” He sighs, rolling over to meet your gaze, his face inches from yours. “How did you come out of something like that and stay soft and trusting? You smile at strangers and you help people. You’re amazing. You know that, right? Nothing that… man did to you defines who you are. There’s something wrong with him, not you. He’ll never touch you again, I swear to you, MC. I’ll rip his tongue from his throat before I let anything happen to you. I love you.” Tears stream down your face, leaving dark spots on your pillowcase as you smile at this beautiful, blonde boy. He pulls you close to him, wrapping his legs around yours and pressing your face into the soft fabric of his sweater. You drift to sleep with every inch of your body touching him, feeling safer than you’ve ever felt.  
When you wake up, Yoosung is gone, and you feel his absence in the pit of your heart. Sitting up, you glance around the dark room - how long were you asleep? Gingerly, you climb out of bed and tiptoe into the living room. Yoosung is sitting on the couch, talking in a hushed voice on the phone. “…Yes, I’m sure. I don’t have much but I can pay you. No, I insist…I can’t do this on my own. Thank you.” Yoosung hangs up the phone and sets it on the coffee table. Dropping his head into his hands, he lets out a heavy sigh. “Yoosung…?” He squeaks loudly to keep from screaming, as you place a light hand on his shoulder. “God, MC, you almost gave me a heart attack. Are you okay, do you need a glass of water or anything?” You shake you head, “No, I’m okay. Who were you talking to?” Yoosung pauses, wondering if he should tell you. He clearly decides that honesty is the best policy, as he pulls you to sit on the couch next to him. “I called Jumin… I’m going to have him station a few guards here for awhile, until I’m sure your ex isn’t a threat.” You start to protest, but Yoosung shakes his head. “Please, MC. Let me protect you.” Eventually you nod, and he places a kiss on your forehead. “Let’s go to bed.”  
A week later, Jumin’s guards are driving you crazy, always checking every room of the apartment, on a 20 minute loop. You just want to scream. Sensing your frustration, Yoosung plucks you off the couch, where you’re curled up with a book, and plops you on the bed. “Get dressed, MC, we’re going to a movie.” When you eye him warily, he sighs. “We can leave the guards here, I would just feel better if they came.” You fold your arms around your chest and pout dramatically. Rolling his eyes, he mutters to himself, leaving the bedroom. Cheerfully, you get dressed in your cutest skirt and a light hoodie. Slipping your high top sneakers on, you grin. Yoosung can’t handle the sight of you wearing a skirt with sneakers. The poor boy probably won’t even watch the movie. But, isn’t that the point? You rush out of the bedroom, grab Yoosung by the wrist, not giving him time to register your outfit until you’re on the sidewalk, hailing a cab. You can hear him sputtering and gasping, but you choose not to acknowledge it. Smirking, you make sure to flash him a peek at your ass as you climb into the backseat of the cab. Yoosung’s face is flushed bright red the entire ride to the movies. You’re not even really sure what movie you guys buy tickets for, but Yoosung practically drags you to the back row, pulling you onto his lap and latching onto your neck. The movie flies by, you hardly hear it over the sinful noises Yoosung makes near your ear, his hands buried deep in your hair. By the time the credits roll and the house lights come on, you’re scrambling to find your shirt. Someone exiting the theater whistles, and you can’t help but giggle as the two of you stumble out into the crowded street. Drunk on each other’s scents and enjoying the starry night, you decide to walk home, arm in arm.  
You wake up on your couch to the sound of running water. Blushing, you realize you’re wearing only your socks. By the offkey singing coming from the bedroom, you connect that Yoosung must be in the shower. Searching around the living room for your various clothing items, you silently thank Yoosung for sending away the guards last night, so you two could have some privacy. As you pull your shirt over your head, a figure peering through the window startles you. You blink and it’s gone, making you half wonder if you imagined it in your sleep deprived mind . You shake your head, playing it off. From the bedroom, you hear the water shut off and Yoosung’s singing stop. Curling back up on the couch, you let your eyes flutter shut for a minute… until you hear glass breaking. Jerking awake, you rush towards the sound - it came from the bedroom. You can hear struggling, and you’re worried that Yoosung hurt himself. “Yoosung, are you-?!” Your voice escapes you as you enter the bedroom and see Yoosung desperately fighting off your ex. The window by the bed is shattered, explaining the sound you heard. “MC, run!” Yelling to you distracts Yoosung enough for your ex to get a grip on him and slam his head against the wall. He slumps to the floor, knocked unconscious, and your ex turns to glare at you.  
Frozen, you’re unsure if you should run or stay and fight. You can’t leave Yoosung with him, there’s no telling what he’d do to him. Before you can register anything, your ex’s fist is flying at your face. You duck just in time, and his fist puts a hole in the wall where you had been standing seconds ago. Dodging past him, you rush to Yoosung’s side. Shaking him does nothing, he’s out cold. You shriek as your ex yanks you away from his side by your hair. You scream and kick with all your might, but your ex is stronger. Before you know it, your hands are bound to the leg of your bed frame. The hardwood floor makes your back ache, but you can hardly feel it as your blood runs cold. Your ex is undoing his belt, then his pants. His eyes are half-lidded as he reaches to push your skirt up. You kick your legs as violently as you can, screaming until your voice cracks, praying a nosy neighbor will hear, or Yoosung will come to. Your noisiness is rewarded with a sharp smack across your cheek. Biting back tears, you spit at your ex. He smirks and pulls out a knife. “Shut your fucking mouth, MC, or I’ll cut your little boyfriend’s eyes out.” He trails the knife across your exposed stomach, the cold metal makes you cry out. His palm connects with your face again. “What did I just fucking say? Keep it down!” He pulls his pants all the way off and situates himself between your legs. You struggle against the binding on your hands, the plastic zip tie biting into your wrist, drawing blood. Sobbing, you plead, “Please…. Please don’t do this…” Your ex just smirks at you again. “I love it when you beg, MC.”  
Your ex starts to tug down your underwear, when he screams in pain and rolls away from you. Straining your neck, you see a large shard of glass protruding from his shoulder. The glass must be from the window… Your heart flutters as Yoosung enters your line of vision. His head is bleeding profusely, but he seems unfazed. “Yoosung!” You sob out his name, but he doesn’t seem to hear you. He retrieves the knife your ex had been brandishing and approaches him. He’s trying to remove the shard of glass from his shoulder while scooting away from Yoosung. “Please, man, I’m sorry, I’ll get lost. I’ll never come back, please don’t hurt me!” Yoosung faces away from you now, but your can hear the malice dripping in his voice when he laughs. “No… I love it when you beg.” Your ex has scooted all the way towards the opposite wall, and no matter how you crane your neck, you can’t see them anymore, but you hear your ex sobbing hysterically. Then he’s screaming. You screw your eyes shut, terrified. You cry out, startled, when you feel Yoosung’s hand on you. Opening your eyes, you’re greeted by wide, lavender eyes filled to the brim with tears. “M-MC… I don’t know what I did. Oh God. Are you okay? Hold on, I’ll cut you free. I don’t think he’s breathing. Come here. I’m so sorry, I woke up to your screaming and I saw him… and I couldn’t control myself.” With your hands free, you snake your arms around Yoosung’s torso, trying to ignore the blood on his hands and shirt. You sob into his sweatshirt for a few minutes before taking a breath to calm yourself. “Yoosung, we need to call the police. Even if he’s not dead, he’s probably bleeding out. And if he dies in our apartment, I won’t be able to live here.” A pounding on the front door startles you both. “Police, open up!” Apparently your nosy neighbors were helpful, after all. Yoosung stands to let them in, leaving you his sweatshirt to cover yourself.  
The next two hours are a blur of police officers, ambulance techs, and calls from the RFA members. By the end of it, both you and Yoosung are taken to the hospital for examination, your ex is rushed to the Critical Care Unit. As you’re guided down a separate hallway, you silently hope he dies in this hospital. You and Yoosung are placed in the same room, while you wait for the doctor. You feel yourself slipping into a daze, a certain numbness coming over you,until you hear sniffling from Yoosung’s bed. “I didn’t… I promised…” He’s muttering to himself, his hands covering his face. Rising from your bed, you gently sit on the edge of his. Feeling the bed dip, he stops muttering, but he can’t seem to stop crying. You stroke his hair, trying your best to avoid the growing lump above his ear, where his head smashed into the wall. The beautiful, blonde hair around his ear is stained red, and the sight makes your stomach turn. “Yoosung…” Hearing your voice makes him sob harder, and he begins muttering “I’m sorry” again and again. Frustrated, you try to yank his hands from his face. “Yoosung, stop. STOP. Talk to me.” Reluctantly, he stops fighting, allowing you to pull his hands completely away. “I broke my promise, MC. I told you, he’d never hurt you again… And he almost…” Sobs ripping through his chest prevents him from finishing his sentence. “But he didn’t. You saved me. Look at me, Yoosung. Please. I need you.” As if you said the magic word, Yoosung lifts his head. His eyes meet yours, almost pleading. “Anything for you, MC. I’ll do anything.” Motioning with your hands for him to scoot, he moves over in his bed, making room for you. You climb into his hospital bed, pulling his arms around you. Reaching up, you stroke his hair, moving down to stroke his tear stained cheek, your hand finally coming to rest against his chest. Burying your face into his neck, you whisper over and over, “I love you” until you can feel Yoosung’s breathing calm down and the fear leave his eyes. Exhaustion overwhelms you both while you wait for the doctor, drifting to sleep wrapped in each other’s arms.  
You wake to the sound of hushed voices - Yoosung and the doctor are talking quietly. Feeling you start to stir, Yoosung strokes your hair and plants a kiss on your forehead. “We can go home, MC.” Nodding groggily, you clamber out of the hospital bed and search for your shoes. Anxiety hits you like a wall, knocking the breath from your lungs. Meeting Yoosung’s eyes from across the room, he shakes his head, already knowing what you’re going to say. “He made it through surgery. He’s going to make a full recovery. In jail, that is - but still. He will live.” Pushing back tears, you simply nod, wondering if you’re a bad person for wishing death on him. “I love you, MC. I swear to you, I won’t stop until he pays for everything he’s done.” “I know, Yoosung. I love you too. Let’s go home.” The cab ride to your apartment is slow and heavy with a loaded silence. Stealing a side glance, you see Yoosung’s eyes searching the night sky above you, like he’s looking for an explanation from the universe. You leave the silence unbroken, but reach over to wrap your hand around his and rest your head on his shoulder. When the cab pulls to a stop in front of your apartment, Yoosung has to carry you inside. Softly laying you on the couch, he removes your coat, then his coat, retreating to hang them on the coat rack. “Yoosung…” you whisper, half asleep. Coming to kneel beside the couch and stroke your hair, he waits for you to continue. “Thank you… thank you for hurting him. He deserved… everything you did… times infinity. Thank you for… being my protector. I love you.” With tears in his eyes, Yoosung smiles for the first time in hours. “Get some rest, MC. I’ll be here forever. I love you.” 

 

V. (TW: Descriptions of violence, panic attacks, guns, derogatory names.)

~~When your divorce was finalized, all the paperwork signed, the boxes of your clothes and other belongings packed, you were relieved - and devastated. But V was there every step of the way, from the beginning when he had first suggested leaving your husband, to the end when he gently rubbed your shoulders as you signed the final papers. He picked up every piece of you that fell apart, his beautiful, blue eyes and ocean soft voice becoming the glue that held your pieces together. He took every tear you shed and absorbed it into his soul, and every night you spent clutching your sheets as the nightmares grew more and more relentless, his gentle hands stroked your matted hair from your sweating forehead, cupping your cheek to softly wake you, saving you from the terrors. Even before the divorce, before anyone knew your husband was beating you, when you would show up to RFA meetings wearing scarves and long sleeve shirts, V noticed. His eyesight was bad, but even a man born without eyes could see the gnarly bruises slightly showing through the makeup you plastered over them. Even a completely dense man - which V was not - could see your pain and shame. At first, he had waited for you to open up, to ask for help or even just someone to talk to. But when it became apparent that you were determined to keep all your suffering inside, to not involve anyone, even the authorities, V’s guilt overwhelmed him, and he intervened, cursing his “selfishness”.  
When the police pounded on your front door, your husband had just finished pushing you around - you had spilled coffee on his shirt. Pointing at the bedroom, he silently signaled you to go clean your bleeding nose up. Answering the door, he barked at the police, demanding to know why they were bothering him. Forcing their way inside, they began searching the house. “We received an anonymous tip… domestic violence. Someone thinks you’re hitting your wife, we are here to see for ourselves that you aren’t.” Scoffing, your husband stands, blocking the door to your bedroom. “I think you need a warrant for that, pal-” The officer slaps a piece of paper into your husband’s hands and shoves past him, walking into the bedroom. “Ma’am, we’d like to talk to you, please.” He calls out to you, making you cringe and hide in the bathroom. Crouching in the tub behind the shower curtain, you hold your breath. The officers knocks once before opening the bathroom door. He immediately notices the bloody towel in the sink and the little trail of blood leading to the bathtub. Pulling back the curtain, you cry out and try to hide your face. “Ma’am? Are you hurt?” Leaning down to look closer at your bruising eye and bleeding lip, he lowers his voice, “Did your husband do this? Ma’am, you’re safe, please tell us the truth. We can make it so you never have to see him again… V sent us.” At the mention of V’s name, your head snaps up, meeting the officer’s eyes. “V…?” Nodding, the officer stands, offering you his hand. You take it and he helps you step out of the tub, wrapping his jacket around your shoulders. “Cuff him!” He suddenly shouts, making you flinch, and you hear your husband yell in protest.  
The officer waits until your husband is thrown in the back of the car outside before leading you out of the bathroom. “Is there anyone I can call for you, ma’am?” Rubbing your sore, bruised wrists, you nod. Tears spill from your eyes, you’re unable to stop the flow, and before you know it, you’re sobbing and gasping into your hands. “…V-” is all you’re able to choke out, and the officer nods once before pulling out his phone and dialing. He steps out of the room to call, but leaves the door cracked. “Mr. Kim? Yes, we have the husband in custody. The woman asked for you… No, she’s pretty beat up. Bastard really did a number on her. Sorry, yes. Yes, sir, I’ll tell her.” Stepping back into the bedroom, the officer bows his head. “I have to get back to the station, but V is on his way over, ma’am. Will you be okay until he arrives, or would you rather I wait with you?” Shaking your head, you dismissed the officer, stating you needed to get cleaned up. And you intended to clean yourself up… You laid in bed instead, shaking and sobbing. You ran over the last couple of hours in your head, replaying every scene over and over. You had spilled the coffee, he had backhanded you, breaking open your lip. You had yelled for him to stop and he punched you in the eye. When you tried to defend yourself, he gripped your wrists tight enough to leave bruises. A soft knock on your front door startles you, pulling you from your play by play. When you opened the front door, V gasped. Even with his blurry vision, he could see the red staining around your nose and lip. The look of sadness on his face broke you and you collapsed in his arms, sobbing into his shoulder. The two of you stood in your doorway, your arms wrapped around his middle, leaving tear stains along the front of his shirt, and his arms wrapped tightly around you, gently stroking your back. One of his hands moves to run through your hair, as he whispers softly to you. “Let’s go sit on the couch, MC. I’m sure today has not been easy for you.” You shake your head violently, “I don’t want to be in this house anymore, V. I need to leave.” Silently, he holds his arm out for you to lead the way. That was the last time you ever stepped foot in that house.~~  
Skip ahead four years, and you’re happily engaged to V, planning an extravagant wedding. Between your engagement, V’s upcoming show, and another RFA party, your life is a wonderful carousel of love, excitement, and wonder. The only event that seems to outshine your coming wedding and the RFA party, is V’s show. It’s going to be a collaboration with several other artists, combining V’s photography with a few painters, a sculptor, and a glassworker. The exhibit is all anyone is talking about, V’s photos being the main focus. He’d been working hard, taking picture after picture until he captured the perfect ones. Last year, after much persisting from you and the RFA, he’d finally gotten the surgery to correct what damage Rika had done to his eyes. His vision still isn’t perfect, and he’ll likely need glasses when he gets older, but he’s not at risk for going blind now. He still likes to let you lead him places, holding tightly onto his hand. For his exhibit, he’d asked you to model in some of his photos. For those pictures, he’d have you pose in the park, or near the window, the light catching your hair just right. For some of his other photos, however, he had snuck quick shots of you doing mundane things, like reading on the couch, enthralled with the story, your eyes wide. Or the one he had taken when you were just waking up, catching your sleepy eyes and hopelessly messy hair. To him, they were all masterpieces - you were a masterpiece.  
Sighing, you take one last look over the email, providing you and V with instructions on when and where to set up his photos. The entire exhibit was planned to be mixed, photography sitting beside paintings and sculptures. You print the email and hunt down your fiance. When you find V, he’s sitting on your balcony, taking photos of the sky. He hears you approach - his extraordinary sense of hearing remained even after he regained most of his vision. Turning to greet you, he snaps another candid photo, making you giggle. “If I can make you giggle like that every day for the rest of our lives, I’ll be the happiest man alive.” Stepping into his arms, you run your hands up and down his back, drawing circles like you know relaxes him. Just as you thought, you can feel the tension leaving his back. “They’ve sent the set up plan, if you’re ready to go set up, love.” Nodding silently, he follows you back into the house, collecting bags and boxes to load into the car. His vision isn’t good enough for him to drive safely, so you climb into the driver’s seat and start the car. He snaps a couple more photos on the short drive to the abandoned warehouse the exhibit was going to be displayed in. It was probably close enough to simply walk there, but you didn’t want to have to carry all of V’s photos and stands. Helping him unload the car, you notice a few of the other artists are setting up as well. You and V both pause briefly to wave before carrying everything inside. While the outside of the building is quite run down, the inside has been cleaned up for the event - the cement floor swept and polished, a security system installed, with security guards working every shift. Thank you, Jumin. Setting up the displays and stands is an exhausting and frustrating process, but eventually it’s done and you can go home with your fiance. Saying goodnight to the guard, you and V make your way back to the car, opting to go out for dinner rather than cook.  
As you’re leaving the restaurant, V’s cell phone rings. He answers it and his face drops. “What is it, love?” Meeting your eyes, his own ocean blue eyes look disappointed, and maybe a little angry. “Someone sabotaged my exhibit, I need to go clean it up so the security guards don’t have to.” You gasp, “Oh no, V, who would do that? I’m so sorry. I’ll go with you and help.” Shaking his head, V smiles softly at you. “No, darling, let’s get you home. I’ll walk over to the exhibit from there. You need to rest, tomorrow is a big day and I don’t want you to wear yourself out.” He gently leads you to the car, ignoring your attempts to reason with him. When you pull into the driveway, he plants a firm kiss to your forehead. “Get some rest, MC, I’ll try to hurry home.” You sigh and pull him in for a kiss before you climb out of the car. He climbs out of the passenger side and starts walking in the direction of the warehouse. You watch until he turns the corner, leaving your line of vision. Inside, you brush your hair and change into sweats and one of V’s t-shirts, which hangs loosely on your small frame. You brush your teeth and glance at the clock, ready for bed. It’s been about 3 hours since V left for the warehouse, and you start to worry. When he doesn’t pick up his cell phone, you slip on your tennis shoes and grab a light jacket. The walk to the warehouse is short, but when you arrive, you can’t help but scream.  
When V arrives at the warehouse, several guards are standing outside talking. Upon seeing V, they become silent and step aside so he can enter the building. His chest is heavy as he sees the damage. The paintings, sculptures, even the glassworks are untouched, as are his photos of the trees behind your home and the photos he took when the leaves had changed color. The only pictures that have been tampered with are the ones he took of you. They’ve been ripped up, some of them written on with black sharpie, words like ‘whore’ and ‘liar’. V curses and begins gathering the torn pieces. When he hears heavy footsteps, he assumes it’s the security guard on duty, coming to help clean up. Standing and turning to tell the guard that helping is not necessary, he stops short. The man standing in front of him doesn’t appear to be wearing a uniform. V focuses his eyes on the man’s face, and a second too late his identity registers with V. Your ex-husband’s fist collides with V’s stomach, forcing him to double over and cough. Gasping for air, V steps back, putting space between himself and your ex. He’s never been a fighter, and from your stories, he knows the violence your ex is capable of. “You son of a bitch. You stole my wife. She was MINE and you fucking meddled. YOU HAD NO RIGHT!” V is certain your ex’s shouting will catch the guards attention, but he does have a point. If he hadn’t stuck his nose in your business, would you still be married to this man? Did he technically steal you? While V is lost in thought, your ex catches him off guard, his fist smashing into V’s jaw. V staggers back, but remains on his feet. Maybe he deserves this, he did break up a family. Another punch knocks him back a few more steps, and he trips. Landing hard on his back, V gasps. Your ex pins him down, his knees digging into V’s arms, preventing any movement. “FIGHT BACK, YOU SON OF A BITCH.” V just shakes his head until your ex wraps his hands around V’s throat and begins squeezing. V coughs and struggles, to no avail, as he quickly runs out of air. Just before he fades to unconsciousness, a scream startles your ex who releases V’s neck by reflex. Gasping for air, V turns his neck to see who screamed. Even with his bad eyesight and the lack of oxygen making his vision fuzzy, he’d recognize you anywhere. “Get the fuck off of him. Right now.” V shivers at the venom dripping from your voice. “Oh, hey MC, we were just going to start the party, I’m glad you’re here. As soon as I’m done with your little friend, you’re next-” He is cut off by a rock hitting his temple. Crying out and cursing, he leaps off of V, and stomps towards you. “MC! Run, get the guards!” V is yelling and trying to get up, desperate to protect you… until he sees you swing a wooden leg from one of the broken stands. The sound it makes colliding with your ex’s knee is sickening and sends V reeling. Your ex is screaming, throwing curses at you while you smirk. “You fucking piece of shit. You don’t touch a single hair on his head, you hear me? You’re mad that I left you, huh? Maybe you should take that up with me. I’m a little mad that you beat me our entire fucking marriage. With the word ‘marriage’, you draw the makeshift bat back again and your ex throws his hands up in defense, screaming ‘please’. Before you can swing once again,this time at your ex’s head, V catches your hands, stopping you midway. Your ex is blubbering over his broken knee, crying about a lawsuit. You lunge at him, furious that he has the audacity, but V catches you again, pulling you away from your ex. You realize you’re crying when V’s soft hands cup your cheeks, his thumbs brushing underneath your eyelashes, wiping away the trail of hot, angry tears. “He ruined me, V. And he ruined your art. He almost killed you. He doesn’t deserve mercy.” Distant shouting becomes louder, as the security guards rush in, responding to your ex’s screaming. Grunting in pain, your ex spits in your direction. “You’ll get what’s coming to you, MC.” Shaking his head, V puts an arm around your back and leads you towards the exit.  
At the sound of a gun cocking, you both freeze. In a split second, V is stepping in front of you, your ex is pulling the trigger, and a security guard is knocking the gun from his hand. Despite the guard disarming your ex, he is a millisecond too late, and the bullet burrows into V’s chest, as he moves to block you. He cries out and presses a hand to his wound, but stays guarded in front of you. You’re reeling, unsure if you can keep yourself from fainting. The guard has your ex pinned to the ground, ignoring his complaints about his knee. V is slowly getting more and more hunched over, until his legs give out and he crashes to the floor. Dropping to your knees beside him, you run your hands over his face, lightly slapping him to keep him conscious. Someone must’ve called the police because you hear sirens in the distance. “MC…” V’s weak voice brings fresh tears to your eyes, as you push his hair from his. “It’s okay, MC, please don’t cry.” Shaking your head, a sob escapes your chest. “No! No, V, you’re going to be fine, help is on the way. I’m so sorry! I should’ve been here with you, I should’ve protected you. If I wasn’t weak-” V’s gentle hand against your cheek cuts you off, making you inhale sharply. Clutching his hand against your cheek, you openly sob. “Please don’t leave me, V. I can’t… Please.” The sirens are ear piercing and shouting from outside draws your attention from V to the doorway. “IN HERE! PLEASE HELP!” You screech, desperation making your hands and voice shake. Glancing back down, V’s beautiful blue eyes are closed. “No! V! Wake up!” You shake him, slap his cheeks, pepper kisses across his face until the EMTs pull you away from him to perform CPR. One of the security guards holds you back as you scream, reaching for him. You hardly even notice the police drag your ex from the building. In the back of your mind, you begin plotting his murder. Oh, the things you would do to him… the pain he would feel. He’d wish he had never- “We’ve got a weak pulse! We need to get moving, NOW!” The EMT’s shouting snaps you out of your rage and your eyes widen with fear and hope.  
Climbing into the back of the ambulance with V’s lifeless body and the EMTs, you force yourself to sit quietly, out of the way, so the EMTs can work to keep V alive. As much as you want to grasp V’s hand, you settle for sobbing silently in your seat. When you arrive at the hospital, V is rushed to surgery and you’re left in the waiting room to chew your nails to bloody stubs and pace a hole in the floor. You know you should call the other RFA members, because they deserve to know, but you also know V would hate them worrying over him. Just as you say ‘fuck it’ and pull out your phone to start making calls, Jumin bursts into the waiting room, followed by Seven and Zen. “MC! What happened? The police said V was shot?!” Guilty tears bubble over the edge of your eyes and you bury your face in your hands. Sitting next to you, Zen softly rubs your back and Seven kneels in front of you, trying to hold your hands. Jumin tracks down a doctor and demands to be given a status update. “It’s… all my fault.” You whisper through sobs. Zen gives a soft, short laugh. “I highly doubt that, MC.” You shake your head violently, “NO! You don’t understand. It’s all my fault. He was hurt because of my past. My ex husband… he abused me when we were married and V is the one who reported him to the authorities. He saved me… And when it came time for me to save him from the same fucking bastard, I failed.” “I’m certain V doesn’t see it that way, MC. He’ll tell you himself when he wakes up. The doctor said the surgery was a success and he should make a full recovery.” Jumin’s voice startles you, but for the first time in hours, your heart feels less heavy and you can take a deep breath. Fresh tears stream down your face, only this time, they are tears of happiness - tears of relief. V is going to be okay. “The doctor said only one of us can go to his room. I think that you should go, MC.” Jumin places a hand on your shoulder and gives a firm squeeze before stepping away, allowing you to stand and follow the doctor.  
Stepping into V’s hospital room feels like entering another world. He’s attached to too many machines, there’s constant beeping and the walls are too white. Your chest aches as you reach for V. His usually warm hands are icy cold, and his breathing is shallow, based on the rise and fall of his chest. The doctor is talking to you, but you’re so laser focused on V’s face, biting your tongue to keep your tears at bay that all you hear is white noise. Patting your arm, the doctor bows and leaves the room. Once you’re alone, you let your chest heave and a loud sob escape. You’re crying so hard, you have to use V’s bed to keep yourself from crumpling to the floor. Every sob that rips from your chest feels like your heart is actually breaking. Eventually, you collapse into a chair in the corner of the room, bent over, your hands buried in your hair, gripping locks tightly whenever you feel the urge to scream. You feel like you might be sick when a soft voice makes every single thought leave your mind. “M-MC…?” V’s eyes are half lidded and he looks pale, but he’s very much alive. Rushing to his side, you can’t help but press your lips against his. “Oh my God, V, you’re awake. Thank God… “ He chuckles quietly, wincing at the action. Glancing down, his eyes wander over the bandage covering his chest and shoulder. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re back to their usual softness. He takes your hands in his, squeezing gently. “I love you, MC… I’m sorry-” “Don’t you dare apologize to me, Jihyun Kim, I swear to God.” The use of his real name makes him smile, but obey. He waits patiently for you to gather your thoughts. Your voice cracking, you unleash everything you thought - no, worried about in the waiting room. “It’s all my fault, V. I should’ve protected you from his wrath. I knew it would come eventually, and I’m ashamed it came down on you, instead of me. You did nothing to deserve this, any of this. Please, forgive me.” V runs his thumb along the vein on your wrist, his touch unbearably tender. “MC, please, listen to me. I’ve loved you for years. I loved you long before you married that man. I loved you the first time I met you. At first, you joining the RFA was convenient and filled a gaping hole left in Rika’s wake… But almost immediately, you became so much more. I’ve always loved you. And if loving you meant stealing you away from a man who didn’t appreciate what he had, then so be it. If that meant risking my life to protect you from him, so be it. I accepted my fate a long time ago, and I’m completely prepared to take anything life throws at me, as long as you’re by my side.” Blinking away tears, you break into a wide smile. “Forever,” you promise him, before pressing a feather light kiss to his forehead.  
When he finally drifts to sleep, you leave the hospital, hailing a cab. When you arrive at the warehouse, you sigh. V’s exhibit is a mess, but you have to fix it. You caused this, you tell yourself, so you have to make it right. Taking shards of glass from one of the cases that had been broken during the fight, you file down the edges so they are no longer sharp and drill holes in random spots. By the time you finish, the sun is starting to rise. A ray of light catches a shard of glass hanging from your creation, making you smile. You took all the torn up pictures, making them into a small collage, using fishing line to hang them, surrounded by your shaved down glass shards. It’s not perfect, but it’s patchwork - just like you and V. You’re both fairly damaged people, but together, well, the end result is something beautiful.


End file.
